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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Wintertail

  Copyright © 2010 by Theodora Lane

  Hartwood Digital Release: January 2016

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Wintertail by Theodora Lane

  Winter is coming. For Mattie, it’s her favorite time of year. The sun is already getting lower in the sky and her time sitting in the shade of the little park across from her insurance office in Bellaire, Texas is coming to an end. So is the opportunity to be brave and introduce herself to the handsome Asian man who sits across from her each day at lunch time.

  Winter is coming. For Tsang, the shortening of the days is worrisome. Every day he basks in the sunshine during lunch, and struggles with the desire he feels for the lovely blonde woman who sits silently across from him on a bench in the shade.

  Winter is coming. For Mattie and Tsang, it could be the end of one of their lives, or the beginning of a new life together.

  Winter is coming.

  Chapter One

  The first time Mattie spotted the Asian man sitting on the bench in the middle of the parkway on Bellaire Boulevard had been two weeks ago. She'd been intrigued by him. She wasn't quite sure what it was—the slight frosting of gray at his temples, the long tail of jet-black hair falling over his shoulder, or the smooth tan of his skin. Perhaps it was the way he sat, stiff backed, hands in his lap, face tilted up to catch the rays of the sun as if they were manna from the heavens. Whatever it was, she knew she'd never seen any man who sent shivers of pleasure down her back like this man did.

  It was ridiculous, of course. She hadn't even spoken to him, much less gotten within speaking distance. Not in the last two weeks when she'd sat across the grass lawn from him, him in the fading sunshine of December, and her in the shade of the huge oaks lining the boulevard. Their little neighborhood park was nice, a slice of Houston carved into jogging trails, green space, and small gardens, even as the buses and cars whizzed past on either side of the boulevard.

  She hugged herself tighter, enjoying the change in the weather. The temperature was dropping—leaves changing colors and falling. The chill in the wind sang to her and her blood answered, but she wished she could sit on the bench he sat on as he caught the last of the year's sunshine. She glanced up at the sky. Off in the distance, out over the Katy prairie west of Houston, gray clouds lurked. The cold weather would be here soon.

  Wishing never did anything unless you worked on making it happen, her mother had always told her.

  Mattie just didn't know if she had the nerve to make something happen, even to stand, walk the twenty feet to his bench and sit. Say, “Hello. Nice day. It looks like it might get colder. My name is Matilda Nordstrom, but everyone calls me Mattie.”

  Instead, she opened her little lunch kit and took out a green apple, bit into it and chewed.

  His eyes would be brown, like dark chocolate, but they'd sparkle with delight every time he looked at her. The skin at the corners of his eyes would crinkle.

  Oh, shut up. He's probably married. Or gay. Or an axe murderer.

  No matter what, she was torturing herself. She should just eat lunch at her desk and stop coming to this bench, waiting for him to open his eyes and discover her.

  She munched on her apple and checked her watch. Thirty minutes before she had to return to work at her small insurance office in the strip mall across the street. She finished the apple, unfolded the sandwich—tuna salad on rye today—and picked up a half. Some of it oozed out, and she licked it quickly to catch it before it fell on her pants and sweater.

  Mattie took a quick sip of bottled water and stared at the man.

  Chinese? Japanese? Vietnamese? Korean?

  It could be any of them or none. The Asian community had claimed this part of town as theirs. Strip centers to the west of the park had signs in characters she had no idea how to translate. Even the street signs were in an Asian dialect. Her own sign hung like a penguin among peacocks, plain and all in English.

  She licked her fingers and put her trash away in the kit, zipped it closed and finished her water. Then she stood, gave him one more glance, and took off for her office.

  Back to work. Back to reality. Back to her boring, unexciting, empty life. A life she'd chosen.

  ∙•∙

  Tsang Zhou could smell her from where he sat. Eyes closed, he inhaled, dragging her scent into his nostrils. It filled him, made his chest tight, and sent a shot of arousal through his body to his loins…something he hadn't felt in long ages, familiar yet foreign.

  He pushed it all away, swearing again to himself to ignore her, but the scent returned. Slow inhale—slow exhale. He shivered as it washed over him. Damn her for teasing him, sitting so close, making him want her, knowing he couldn't have her. Knowing he'd have to give up his secrets to her. He'd been tricked once by a beautiful, but treacherous maiden and he'd sworn never to let that happen again.

  The sun faded, and the liquid sunshine sang in his blood, telling him soon it would be time to retire to his cozy house, among the few remaining treasures from his past, and once again he'd pass another year on this earth.

  In this strange city so far from his home. So far from all he'd ever known. The mountains draped in mist, the snowy peaks, the lush beauty of the farmlands and rice fields. He'd had to leave—it wasn't safe for him there anymore. Thanks to his foolish love for the girl, the villagers had discovered him. Despite his powers, he knew if he didn't flee, they'd kill him, taking what wasn't theirs and dividing his body to make the most powerful medicine on earth.

  It wasn't so bad here in Houston. No one suspected who he was and he blended in with the large Asian community. He shopped for familiar foods in the small stores—could wear his traditional clothing without anyone wondering. He'd bought a small house, had it renovated to resemble his old home, and yet, no matter what he did, it didn't feel like home.

  He knew what was missing.

  But it was impossible here. He'd given up any chance for that when he left his home half a world away, damning himself to a lifetime of loneliness and celibacy. Terrible not to be able to make love, but better to be alive.

  No. Not better.

  But alive.

  His contentment with his life changed one day two weeks ago when he sat on the bench, closed his eyes and turned his face up to soak the rays in, giving him life and feeding him its power.

  And she appeared. Every part of his body, up to then slipping slowly into slumber, came alive with the first scent of her. She awakened him, made his blood sing, and made the power in this body shoot through him, searching for release.

  He'd met other women before, seen others, but had wanted none of them. He wanted her and had no idea why.

  Every day she sat, ate her lunch, then left, ignoring him. Pretendi
ng he didn't exist and his blood didn't sing out to her, calling her to him. Perhaps it didn't. Perhaps he was too old, too long gone from his lands.

  It had been too long since he'd been in his true form. Much longer and he'd never take it again. One day, he'd have to find a final place, change, and stay there forever, hidden from the world.

  But she was so close. Just across the park. Waiting for him. She alone could save him, but the risk was far too great. He'd rather die than be deceived again and have his heart cut from his chest, have it roasted and ground into fine powder and used against others like him.

  So Tsang sat, until he heard the rustle of the papers, heard her quiet sigh, and her footsteps leaving. He cracked one eye open and watched as she left the park.

  She was lovely. Round hips. Small waist. Blonde hair falling over her shoulders and down her back.

  Never to be his.

  Chapter Two

  Mattie shivered as the wave of cool air hit her. She shut the front door of her house behind her, kicked off her shoes, tossed her purse on the hall table, and padded to the kitchen. She'd worked late and now her belly rumbled. The small sandwich hadn't really been enough to hold her.

  She pulled out the salmon steak and prepared it. A meal for one. She imagined for a moment she cooked the meal for him. How would he like it? With the sauce or without? Probably without.

  After putting the fish in the oven to bake, she went to her bedroom, undressed, pulled out a pair of shorts and T-shirt, and slipped them on. Tying up her hair, she headed back to the living room.

  The TV came to life, and she put on the news for background noise.

  Being alone…it was lonely, of course, but the quiet bothered her the most. No one to talk to—no noises other than the ones she made, and they weren't many.

  She flopped onto the couch and sighed.

  The coolness of the air conditioning danced over her skin, raising goose bumps, and she shivered, delighted in the sensation. Delighted her favorite time of year approached. The holidays would be here soon, but that wasn't really what excited her. It was the accompanying weather—the crispness in the air, the hints of snow that never fell, the wet damp of the rain.

  It wasn't the same as home, not by a long shot, but it was still good. She'd lived in Houston so long she'd become used to its seasonable winters. Well, not really winter, although, a few years ago, it had snowed.

  She grinned, remembering how she'd stared out of her back door at the snow blanketing the ground like a picture postcard on Christmas Eve. She'd squealed like she was a child, kicked off her shoes, and raced out the door to dance in the snow.

  Good thing no one saw her or they'd think she was crazy.

  Of course, when she'd left Minnesota, she knew what she was running from—her family and their expectations of her. They'd arranged her marriage to a man, one of their kind, only she refused to be trapped by them. She loved her parents, but her life was hers to live, and her heart was hers to give. Her mother had called her pigheaded. She preferred to call it stubborn. She knew what she wanted. So she swore, then and there, she'd leave the confinement of her life in their tight-knit community and find someplace far away from others like her.

  The weather report came on, and she left her memories to pay attention.

  National weather called for a colder than normal winter, especially down south. Temps might hit record lows. Already there were ice storms in Oklahoma, and Dallas might see snow.

  Mattie hoped it would make it down to Houston, but the chances of that were slim. Getting used to the mild winters had taken quite some time, but she'd done it and now, after years of it, her body had adjusted.

  The timer went off and she rose to get her dinner.

  She plated the salmon, poured a little of the sauce over it, and added some asparagus. She carried it to the small dining table, put it on the placemat, and then went back for a drink.

  Mattie got a bottle of cold water from the fridge and returned, sat, and began to eat.

  If he were here, they'd talk of all sorts of things. Tease each other. Laugh. Maybe even hold hands. He'd lean over, and she'd lean in, and they'd kiss, tasting of their meal. He'd probably drink wine or a beer.

  He was as far away from what her parents had planned for her as the Earth from Mars, and she was just fine with it.

  Mattie sighed and finished her meal. She should be realistic about all this. It had been two weeks and he'd never even nodded hello.

  Tomorrow at lunch, she would eat at her desk.

  »»•««

  Tsang passed through the atrium outside his front door, pausing only to inspect the rock garden. All the stones were as he'd left them, neatly raked, concentric circles around the large boulders, his white sea at perfect peace.

  So unlike his heart. He'd grown more and more discontent with each passing year, and he'd never been able to name the cause. Now he knew, and it terrified him.

  Could he do it again? Open his heart and his life to a woman? The last time was the stuff of nightmares.

  But he needed. It filled his being, pushing at all the seams, trying to escape, to find its home. In her. With her.

  Impossible.

  It had cost too much before, and now? Was he so stretched he'd forgotten the past, so he'd take a risk and endanger his life for a woman?

  For what she could offer him? Would it be worth it?

  He entered the house and the warmth hit him. He shut the door, locking it, and leaned back, absorbing the heat into his bones. Not as good as sunlight, but it worked.

  After removing and hanging up his jacket, Tsang placed the take-out food bag on the kitchen counter and got out a bowl and his red enameled chopsticks. Once he served himself, he took the bowl and headed to the living room.

  The news was on, and in a few minutes, the weather report. He ate, holding the bowl under his chin to scoop the food into his mouth, and watched the lovely weather girl smile as she talked about the coldest winter in years bearing down on Houston.

  "It will never get this far," Tsang said to no one as he kicked off his boots.

  But what if it did? What if the ice came and plunged them into darkness?

  He put his bowl down, his meal finished, and pulled a comforter over his legs, as though chilled by the very thought of the cold seeping into his bones. Freezing him. Sapping him of all his energy.

  He sank lower into the cushions of the couch and dragged the comforter to his chin. In its cocoon, he was warm and safe. Alone, but warm and safe.

  The woman from the park danced on the edge of his existence, twirling, her golden hair flying, blue eyes like the depths of ice, her pale skin glowing with health.

  With her, he would be warm, here under the comforter. Together, they would generate enough heat making love to keep him warm all winter.

  Tsang sighed. An entire winter—perhaps a lifetime—of loving, of making love, to such a woman would be more than he should ask for.

  But ask for it, he did.

  If there was anyone still out there to hear his prayers. He didn't think so, but one never knew.

  His longing for her grew as his body warmed and his cock hardened. He ran his hand over his straining erection, like so many times before, to release the fire that burned inside him.

  Tsang groaned, closed his eyes and imagined her, pushing him back against the pillows of the couch, crouching over him, her long blonde hair curtaining around his head. Blue fire would burn in her eyes, and she'd lower her mouth to his.

  He slipped his hand into his pants, freeing the length of hard flesh and, finding rapidly forming pearls, used them to smear over the head and down the shaft to ease his way inside her.

  Tsang could smell her arousal. Thick and pungent, like the finest of spices in a hot skillet blooming to ripeness, and he inhaled. It was a richer scent than her normal one, the one he smelled each time she sat on the bench across from him.

  He ran his hands down over her hip, cupping her firm, full cheeks. A quick squee
ze and then he moved to her belly, feathering his fingertips across, until he came to her mound.

  Tight blonde curls hid her treasure, but he used his fingers to discover her folds—slick, soft, sensitive. She gasped as he stroked them, and groaned when he slid inside her heat.

  She spread her legs, and he positioned his cock at her opening. She pressed down, and he up…and just like that they were mated. Her tunnel held his flesh as if it were made for it, tight, safe, and so, so hot.

  He held her hips, thrusting, groaning, as she whimpered and urged him faster. He complied, pumping his cock, until he reached the edge of the world and jumped into the abyss.

  White ropes painted his belly, and he shuddered through each of them.

  Finished, but not sated, complete but not whole, he lay there until his heart slowed and his breath came easy.

  Tomorrow, he would approach her. Speak to her. Ask her to dinner, perhaps.

  Would he really risk it all for her?

  Was living like this, alone and lonely but safe, worth not risking?

  Chapter Three

  Mattie looked at the time on her computer and then opened her drawer to take out the lunch kit she'd packed. Several pieces of sushi, a mound of sticky rice, and a small portion of wasabi—one of her favorite meals.

  Her one-woman shop seemed even lonelier than before. She stood, crossed to the large front window and gazed out. The lunch customers for the two restaurants at the ends of the strip filled the parking lot. Just like every day.

  Her gaze slipped across Bellaire Boulevard to the wide median of the park. She couldn't quite see if he sat on the bench, but he'd be there today, she was sure of it.

  She'd promised herself to stop this foolishness.

  Turning her back on the window, she hung up the "out to lunch—back in an hour" sign on the front door and headed to her desk.

  Mattie slumped into her chair and exhaled. Stared at her lunch.

  "What the hell," she muttered.